Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(78)

“Good. Neither do I,” Ivy declared, smiling up at her.



* * *



—

Luke groaned as he woke up, his head pounding, his side a throbbing, aching mess.

Daylight leaked in through the edges of the curtains.

Not his house. He didn’t know where she was, only that she’d drugged him and left him here, a faint, floral scent—her scent—still in his nose.

Luke lunged for his helmet, biting down a shout of pain as the skin along his ribs pulled. He jammed the helmet onto his head, flicking the lenses over his eyes as he gathered up the scales of armor she’d ripped away, depositing them into his Utility Belt pouches, along with the stitching kit she’d used on him. No DNA left behind.

Luke opened the bedroom door, kicking away the wool sweaters she’d used to cut off any light. Any trace of her beyond the feel of her body, the heat of her mouth, the scent of her hair and skin—

He was grinding his teeth, buckling on his Utility Belt as he stormed for where he assumed the front door would be.

Right into the kitchen of Commissioner Gordon. Where Gordon, his teenage daughter, and his young son were eating breakfast.

Gordon’s daughter let out a murmur of alarm, his son a cry of delight, and Gordon himself…He dropped his cereal-filled spoon right onto the small kitchen table.

“Good morning” was all Luke could think to say, and headed for the front door just past the table.

Gordon recovered enough to say, “Good morning to you, too.”

His son whispered, reverent and overjoyed, “Batwing.”

Luke smiled beneath his helmet and went so far as to ruffle the boy’s dark hair as he passed.

Gordon’s daughter spotted his ribs first. “Are you all right?”

Gordon’s attention shot to the bare skin, the stitches. He rose from his chair. “Jesus—”

Luke knew Gordon would never say anything—none of them would—but it wouldn’t surprise him if some of the shock on the man’s face had to do with the brown skin peeking through Batwing’s suit. “I’m fine,” Luke said, reaching the front door. “Totally fine.” He glanced toward Gordon’s son. “Just making sure all is well in the neighborhood.”

They just watched him, wide-eyed, as he unlocked the door and headed into the hall.

Oh, she’d known precisely whose apartment she’d brought him to. He didn’t know whether to be furious or amused.

From the smile tugging on his mouth…Luke fought it and made a quick exit down the building stairs. As he headed for the nearest rooftop, Luke realized that he’d slept through the night. And hadn’t been woken once. Hadn’t had one nightmare.





Harley was leaning against the brick wall of the alley when Selina and Ivy arrived the next night. No sign of the boy shorts and fishnets. Just two-tone leggings, boots, and a tiny ball-bomb in either hand.

“New outfit?” Selina asked, but Ivy had gone still at her side. Nervous.

“No more robberies,” Harley said, her face hard and cold.

“Well, I’m sure the Gotham Antiquities Museum will be sorry to hear that our appointment tonight is canceled,” Selina said, sizing up the space between Harley and Ivy.

When she’d called Ivy this afternoon with the time and location for their next rendezvous, she hadn’t hinted at anything between them being amiss, but—

Selina halted a healthy distance away.

Harley’s eyes remained on her, though. As if Ivy didn’t exist. “I want the Joker out of Arkham now.”

Selina kept her arms within casual distance of her weapons, not daring to let her claws slide free. Not yet. It’d signal a fight, and getting into it with Harley tonight would not be good for her plans.

She’d humiliated Gordon and the GCPD. Whether he’d figured out that Batwing had been dumped in his guest room by her didn’t matter. It was only a matter of time until they came for Catwoman. And only a matter of time before Nyssa and Talia’s army arrived, too. Bringing with it utter annihilation.

“Wait another day or two,” Selina said calmly, her voice the portrait of boredom.

“We do it now,” Harley snapped. “We proved twice now that we can break someone out. And I have it on good authority that my man’s aware of us—of our little shopping spree here in Gotham, and he’s pissed we’re taking so long.”

Ivy flinched at the two words—my man. But Ivy countered coolly, “Arkham is a different beast than the city prison, Harley.”

“You’re siding with her?” Harley demanded.

Perhaps it was pity for the pain on Ivy’s face, but Selina said, “We need to sell some of what we’ve stolen first. We need more cash to bribe the right people—”

“Get the damn cash. We do this now.”

Harley aimed both of her bombs toward Selina.

“Harley,” Ivy barked.

“Shut up,” Harley snarled, not taking her eyes off Selina as she advanced, thumb on the small trigger atop each bomb. “Just shut up, Ivy.”

Selina calculated the distance between them. Harley would not miss.

“Wherever you’ve been hiding all the stolen shit, we go there now. Now.”

Ivy’s face had gone pale. Use your gases, Selina silently willed her. Stop this—